


Think Of All The Fun I've Missed

by bouncymouse



Series: Shinra Holiday 2020 [5]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020), Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Office Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bouncymouse/pseuds/bouncymouse
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and Tifa has some familiar visitors in her bar. For #ShinraHoliday2020
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Reno
Series: Shinra Holiday 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057700
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37
Collections: Shinra Holiday 2020





	Think Of All The Fun I've Missed

**Author's Note:**

> More fluff for Christmas, for the prompt "Think Of All The Fun I've Missed." Office Christmas Party is probably more applicable, but I preferred this as a title. My horrendously late entry for day 5 of #ShinraHoliday2020.

Tifa Lockhart stood behind the bar, tidying away clean glasses. They were still warm from the soapy water she washed them in, and she paused to wipe a smudge of bubbles from one before hanging it in the rack overhead.

It was Christmas Eve and the atmosphere at Seventh Heaven reflected the date, a buzz of conversation and laughter in the air. Barret was upstairs, trying to keep two overly excited children entertained while she worked. He’d been in Edge almost a week now, looking after the bar whilst Tifa travelled to Icicle Inn with Reeve, a spontaneous trip due to WRO business in the area. It soon became apparent they’d planned her inclusion to keep her away from the bar, Barret hustling her out the door with a cheery wave and a promise everything would run smoothly in her absence.

Suspicions sufficiently raised, she’d felt a little nervous when she returned home. The scene she walked into warmed her heart.

Barret and the kids decorated the bar while she was away. There were paper snowflakes on the windows and tiny holly wreaths surrounding candles on all the tables. She could smell pine in the air the moment she opened the door. This was his plan this from the start, she realised, taking in the Christmas tree standing in the corner, covered top to toe in sparkling lights and glittering baubles.

They waited for her to come home before they placed the angel at the top. Barret picked Marlene up in one arm and she giggled at his stubbled jaw tickling her cheek, stretching to reach the top of the tree. Tifa looped her arm around Denzel’s shoulders and watched Marlene nestle the decoration at the tip of the pine, feeling the familiar bitter-sweet nostalgia wash over her. The angel wore a tiny scrap of pink ribbon around its waist.

It was a fitting tribute to friends that were no longer with them.

The trip, though short, left her in high spirits. Time to herself was a rare creature with the bar to run and mouths to feed, and Icicle Inn was such a magical place at Christmas. She’d picked up presents for the kids and a bottle of schnapps for Barret, and wandered around the square drinking hot chocolate from festive mugs, taking in the sparkling lights.

It wasn’t only snow and pretty decorations that left her in high spirits.

Bumping into Reno was unexpected, as was the evening she’d spent with him, drinking coffee and chatting like old friends. How times changed. Whilst the Turks had softened over the years, she didn’t expect him to be so human. Kissing him was a mistake, one that made her skin warm and her heart race. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to make it again.

She didn’t mention their encounter. Somehow, she didn’t think Barret would be impressed.

The bar was emptying now. It was busy for a time, earlier in the evening, but her regulars were drifting home, looking forward to meals with their families and presents come the morning. Those that were still drinking weren’t causing too much trouble, although there were a couple of larger groups of revellers still, the alcohol making them bright-eyed and red-faced. The jukebox played nothing but Christmas songs all evening, and earlier on somebody pushed the tables in the centre of the room aside to create a makeshift dancefloor.

She’d smiled politely at her patron’s requests to dance with them, nodding towards the empty glasses in her hands, or the queue at the bar by way of excuse.

The party in the corner booth was especially rowdy. Tifa headed out from the safety of the bar to collect more empty glasses, unsure how to process exactly what she was hearing.

“And on the fifth day,” the redhead proclaimed loudly, perched on the back of the booth, his shirt-sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “The Lord said let there be… something…”

“Something...” Rude smirked faintly into his glass.

“Yeah… um… Chocobo! And he said… something about Chocobo and… fruit... and let them multiply…”

His voice turned uncertain as he lost his train of thought.

Tseng sat next to Rude, his arm slung around the shoulders of the blonde next to him. “Tell me how to stop this.”

“And on the sixth day…”

Elena patted Tseng’s hand. She’d finally stopped dancing and returned to their table, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining. When she spoke, she slurred. “Don’t think you can.”

“Let there be man and…” Reno squinted, his thought process playing out over his expression. “Dominion over fish and shit.”

“It does not say that,” laughed Elena. “It definitely does not say that.”

“And on the seventh day, the Lord kicked back and had a beer-”

“I don’t remember that part either,” said Rude.

“My version is better,” Reno assured him.

Tseng shook his head, swirling the whiskey around his glass. “You’re going straight to hell, Reno. I hope you know that.”

Reno smirked. “And I’ll see you there, boss.”

“It was birds and sea creatures,” said the fifth member of their group, his white jacket draped over the back of a chair and badly stained where Reno had knocked Elena’s glass of red wine over. “There’s no mention of Chocobo, I can assure you.”

“Fucked if I know,” Reno scoffed.

“I must’ve read it enough times at school.” Rufus drummed his fingers on the table, mulling it over. “Let the waters abound with an abundance of living creatures and let birds fly above the earth...’

“Chocobos are birds,” said Rude loyally.

Rufus smiled thinly, reaching for the half-empty bottle in the centre of the table. He poured more of the amber spirit into Reno’s glass, which was hanging precariously from his hand.

“I suppose,” Rufus conceded.

“I’m glad to see that expensive education wasn’t wasted,” said Tseng, his sarcastic tone softened by the smirk on his lips. “Your father would be proud.”

“My father was an asshole.”

Tseng tilted his glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Here, fucking here,” said Reno, raising his own.

“Was there a point to this conversation?” asked Rufus. 

“Mmm,” said Elena. “Reno’s trying to convince us he’s a good, religious boy.”

“I am!”

All four of them looked at him. Reno stared back, aghast.

“I’m being victimised here,” he protested.

“Reno, Tseng’s right,” said Elena. “You’re going straight to hell.”

“Well… obviously.” He used the hand he was holding the glass in to point at Tseng. “And when I get there, I’ll stage a coup. So you fuckers better be nice to me or I’ll stick you with a pitchfork.”

“Try it and I’ll break your kneecaps.” Elena’s glass wobbled in her hand, sloshing liquor over the table.

Tifa edged nearer, collecting the empties from the table next to theirs. When she looked up, Reno was watching her, his smirk positively lecherous. She looked away quickly.

He’d been doing it all evening, trying to catch her eye. She almost knocked the cocktail she was making off the bar when the Turks sauntered through the door hours earlier. She hadn’t seen Reno since their kiss and assumed things would be awkward. Instead, he did everything he could to catch her eye, making flirtatious comments whenever he came up to the bar to order. 

All she could think about was his mouth on hers, his cold hands slipping beneath her sweater. Rude had asked her how her trip was when he came up to buy his round. Flustered, she placed four icy beers on a tray without opening them and messed up his change.

They started off pretty sedately, sitting in their corner booth and chatting quietly, ignoring the looks they were getting from the other customers. The four black suits bent the surrounding atmosphere at first, like they always did, the conversation elsewhere becoming overly loud or petering out entirely. Barret wasn’t impressed. He’d grumbled about it being goddamn Christmas Eve and didn’t they have somewhere else they could drink?

They weren’t ever any trouble, though, and it _was_ Christmas, the time of goodwill to all men. She let Barret help behind the bar until it grew quiet enough to manage on her own, at which point she packed him off upstairs with a bedtime story for the kids and a reminder that she could handle herself should the need arise.

The last thing she needed was to spend Christmas morning scrubbing blood off the floor.

Moments after Barret left, Rufus Shinra breezed through the door. He’d walked straight up to the bar and ordered her most expensive bottle of whiskey and five glasses, pressing a slim wad of crisp, fifty Gil notes into her palm with a polite smile and an icy _'Merry Christmas.'_ That was when the chaos started, fuelled by the expensive liquor.

They were already on their second bottle.

All five of them were in their shirt-sleeves now, in various states of dishevelment. Tseng’s tie hung loose and there was a red smudge on his cheek that matched the festive lipstick Elena wore. Apparently, this was a recent development because Reno and Rude stared at them, open-mouthed when he’d slung his arm around her shoulders and she kissed him on the cheek. Elena wasn’t wearing a tie at all and had spilt more of her wine down her sleeve.

Rude’s candy-cane patterned tie was fully undone and dragging on the floor. He had Reno’s goggles and his own sunglasses balanced precariously on his shaved head, and there were ruddy circles on his cheeks. Reno leaned down to mutter something in his ear and Rude shoved him in response, his laugh booming across the room when Reno lost his footing and fell off the side of the booth.

The sound of broken glass cut the air. Even Rufus was laughing, and there were tears rolling down Elena’s face. Tifa was about to intervene when Reno climbed unsteadily to his feet, brushing himself down.

“Shit,” he proclaimed, inspecting his hand. There was blood running down his wrist. He frowned at it for a moment longer, tilting it this way and that. “I need a piss.”

Tseng rolled his eyes as Reno left the table.

Tifa headed behind the bar and picked up the dustpan and brush to sweep up the shattered remains of Reno’s glass. On second thoughts, she also grabbed the first-aid kit. When she deposited the slim green box on their table, Rude raised his eyebrows at her.

“What’s that?”

“Reno’s bleeding,” she replied.

“He’ll live.”

Elena mumbled something, expression slightly green, and lurched for the front door.

There were fragments of glass everywhere, crunching beneath Tifa’s shoes. Kneeling down, she brushed them together, struggling to reach the pieces below the table.

A shadow eclipsed her. “Allow me.”

When she looked up, Tseng was standing over her. He held out his hand.

“I’ve got it,” Tifa assured him. “Should you check on Elena?”

“She’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? Because she didn’t look fine.”

“This happens every year. She’ll be fine,” he repeated.

Reno sauntered back to the table, dragging his boots across her shiny floor. They squeaked. “Where’s Elena gone?”

“Outside,” said Tseng. “Miss Lockhart believes you require medical assistance.”

Reno grinned, checking his watch. “Nah, I’m good. Ten forty-five exactly. Pay up, bitches.”

Rude grumbled, reaching for his jacket. Tifa watched him press a couple of crumpled notes into Reno’s uninjured hand.

“I thought she’d last longer this year,” said Rufus, thumbing through his own wallet.

“And I’ve told you both not to bet against Reno.” Tseng reached for his jacket, turning to the redhead with a stern frown. “And you can clean up the mess you’ve made.”

“Huh?” Reno looked down, his triumphant smirk wavering. “Shit... Sorry.”

Unlike Tseng, Reno didn’t offer to help. He dropped to his haunches beside her, nudging her aside with his shoulder and tugging the dustpan and brush out of her unresisting fingers. There was toilet paper wrapped around his hand, over and over, and blood was already seeping through it. Tifa could only sit on her heels and watch him sweep up the shattered glass.

At the table, the rest of the party was getting ready to leave. Rude was having trouble locating the other sleeve of his coat, turning in a slow circle and flapping his arm like a wounded bird.

“My crack security team,” said Rufus ruefully, as Tseng grabbed Rude by the collar and turned his inside-out sleeve the right way around.

“It would probably be for the best if you could refrain from offending anybody on the way home, sir,” Tseng suggested.

Rufus clutched his chest, feigning hurt. “Tseng, you wound me.”

Both arms in his sleeves, Rude straightened out his coat. His sunglasses slipped off his head and landed on his nose. He nodded, satisfied.

Beside her, Reno had finished sweeping. Whiskey dripped from the dustpan in his hand. “Bin?”

“Behind the bar,” she replied faintly, straightening up. “By the sink.”

The others were all wearing their coats now. Rude’s tie was still hanging from his neck. There was a distinct lack of knitted accessories considering the weather. Snow and ice still paved the streets outside. The only scarf between them was the one Tseng had over his arm, alongside another, smaller coat.

It had Tonberries knitted into the pattern.

“Merry Christmas,” said Rufus, his voice not as icy this time around. His cheeks were pink, his impeccably styled blonde hair sticking up at odd angles where he’d rubbed his fingers through it. “I hope you and your family enjoy the holiday.”

“You too,” she replied.

He headed for the door, trailed by Rude, who took one last look around before he crossed the threshold. "Where's Reno?"

"He went after Elena,” Tseng replied, bending to pick something up off the floor. He dropped a shard of glass Reno missed into one of the empty tumblers. “I imagine he wanted to gloat.”

They filed out of the bar, Tseng bringing up the rear. Tifa watched the door click shut behind him, feeling oddly disappointed to see them go. Their banter and laughter suggested a close-knit family, not unlike her own. She could imagine Yuffie dancing to Christmas music with Elena, dragging Vincent along behind her, and Barret roaring with laughter sat alongside Rude.

It would be a Christmas miracle, of course, there being far too much bad blood between the two parties for a friendship to form. Rufus and the Turks were obviously seeking redemption, their actions over the last couple of years showing a group that was repentant for the sins they’d committed, and whilst the past was undoubtedly painful, Tifa hoped they could find the absolution they sought. Her own hands were dirty enough and holding onto grudges just made the bad-taste even more bitter.

There would be more than one hungover Turk on Christmas morning, she mused.

It wasn't long before her last patrons drifted through the door, wishing her well for the season. She locked it behind them, slipping the heavy bolts home. There were glasses and bottles everywhere, her collection routine disturbed by the antics of the Turks. She rounded them up before reaching for the plastic tub of cleaning supplies beneath the bar. This was a job she could leave until the morning, but she resisted the call of her bed. Get it done now, and she wouldn’t have to deal with it tomorrow.

After she scrubbed her sixth table and flipped the stools up onto the top, she checked her watch. It was five minutes to midnight, almost Christmas Day.

She left her rag and spray-bottle on the nearest table and headed for the stairs. Years of evenings just like this trained her to avoid the creaky steps, and she didn’t turn the landing lights on, letting the moonlight that lanced through the curtains illuminate her way. The flickering glow from the room at the end of the hall told her that the television was on, and sure enough, the kids’ room was deserted, their beds empty.

Tifa stood in the doorway to the living room and surveyed the scene.

Barret was dozing on the sofa, his head thrown back and his mouth hanging open. He’d regret that choice of position come the morning, she knew, as his quiet snores grumbled over the low buzz from the tv. Marlene was curled up under one arm and Denzel under the other, both of them fast asleep. His prosthetic shone under the light from the television, his metal fingers lax along the back of the sofa.

Smiling softly, Tifa took a blanket from the box under the coffee table and carefully draped it around the trio. Denzel’s eyes fluttered open, and he frowned in confusion.

“Is it Christmas yet?” he asked sleepily.

“Not yet,” she whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

“Are you goin’ to bed too?”

She stroked his cheek. “In a little while. I’m just closing up.”

Denzel nodded. “'Kay...”

It wasn’t long before his eyes were closed again, his breathing slow and steady. Satisfied that her little family were comfortable, she headed back downstairs.

When she pushed through the door, Reno was sitting at the bar, studying the make-shift bandage wrapped around his hand. There was a half-empty bottle of beer in front of him, one that she was almost certain he hadn’t paid for.

“Reno!”

He grinned. “Hey, babe.”

She ignored the endearment. “You can’t be in here. We’re closed.”

“You are?”

“I thought you’d gone home.”

“Nope.” He beckoned her closer, swaying slightly on his stool. “C’mere.”

“Why?”

“Why?” he echoed, frowning. “Why not?”

Tifa folded her arms, leaning back against the doorframe. “It’s late. Go home.”

He slipped off the stool and sauntered around the bar, his footsteps unusually loud in the empty room. They echoed her heartbeat, thudding in her ears. 

Reno was still without his jacket, his white shirt untucked and gaping open where he’d missed far too many buttons. It exposed his leanly muscled torso, tapering down to the shiny belt-buckle at his waist. She stared for a moment longer than was appropriate, feeling the heat creep up her neck, wondering what it would be like to trace her fingers along the abs outlined beneath his skin.

There was blood on his shirt.

He stopped in front of her, the toes of his boots knocking mutinously against hers. “It’s not that late.”

She glared up at him, trying to ignore the warm scent of his cologne and the whiskey on his breath. He wasn’t that much taller than her, but his swagger made the couple of inches he had on her seem far more important. She pressed herself further into the wood at her back, fighting the impulse to lean into him.

That wouldn’t end well.

“Go home,” she repeated, folding her arms.

Reno raised his hand above them, grinning impishly. When she looked up, there was a sprig of holly pinched in his fingers, stolen from one of the wreaths on the tables.

“That’s holly.”

“And?”

“People kiss under the mistletoe.”

He glanced at it for a moment. When his eyes dropped back to hers, there was a heat in them that threatened to burn her. “So... what do they do under holly?”

He was so close now she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek. Her thoughts ran away from her. All she had to do was close the gap between them and a large part of her wanted to give in, to kiss him, to slip her hands beneath his shirt and press them to his skin. It would be so easy...

She resisted, ducking under his arm and retreating to the safety of the bar area.

“You’d have to ask them,” she said.

He followed her. “Tifa.”

She smiled diplomatically. “Reno.”

“Kiss me.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“The kids are upstairs.” She sidestepped a table, fingers curling around the back of a chair as though it could act as a shield.

“And?”

 _“Barret’s_ upstairs.”

“We’re not.” He smirked, following her around the table. She backed away. “Just one kiss.”

She laughed, a mixture of nerves and the thrill of the chase. “Just one?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t believe you.” She bumped into the pinball machine, halting her escape.

He knew he had her cornered, it was clear in her eyes as he stalked towards her. “You want me.”

He wasn’t wrong, but kissing him was a terrible, terrible mistake. Doing it again would be unforgivable. They were too different, the chasm between their two lives far too wide.

“That’s not the point,” she said. “I _can’t_ want you.”

She thought of the snowman, and her resolve weakened.

“I think that’s exactly the point,” he said, edging closer. “It’s pretty fucking simple.”

“We can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

She braced her hands against the glass-top behind her, palms clammy. “Because we can’t.”

Staring into those bright blue eyes, she couldn’t remember exactly why. His proximity made it difficult to think straight and she could feel the heat of his body now, scorching through her clothes.

“Reno…”

His expression turned wry, and he took a step back, holding his hands out in a gesture of submission. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“It wouldn’t be a good idea,” she said, talking to herself as much as him.

“Nah.” He shrugged nonchalantly, not quite meeting her eye. “It wouldn’t.”

Disappointment settled over her, despite her protestations.

Tifa’s eyes settled on the bloody toilet-paper wrapped around his hand. She reached out, closing her fingers around his wrist before he could pull it away. “Let me see that.”

“It’s fine,” he assured her as she unwound the paper. “It’s not even that deep.”

There was an inch-long gash across the heel of his palm, no doubt where he’d leaned on broken glass when he clambered up off the ground. It wasn’t bleeding that much anymore, but it still required a proper dressing. His skin was red around the edges of the cut, his palm hot to touch. It needed cleaning, and she could hardly send him into the snow with toilet-paper trailing from his wrist.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” she asked, leading him by the arm to the table the Turks had recently vacated.

“Maybe.”

She pressed her hand against him, forcing him to sit on the edge of the bench. His chest was hard beneath her palm and her thumb skimmed the bare skin beneath his open collar before she removed it. Another crack in her resolve. Cheeks flaming, she reached for the first aid kit.

Reno was still holding the sprig of holly in his other hand, his face far more solemn now. Tifa unpacked the kit, tearing open an antiseptic wipe.

He turned the stick over in his fingers. “I thought… Actually, nah…”

There was something in his sullen expression, a child caught doing something he shouldn’t.

She wiped gently at his palm and he inhaled sharply, frowning at the offending wipe in her hand. “Look… Icicle Inn was… I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too.”

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea to get carried away.”

“It’s not,” he agreed. He tossed the sprig of holly aside, attention now fixed on her fingers at his wrist. She missed his next words, mumbled at the floor.

“Hmm?” She dropped the bloody wipe on the table, studying the cleaned cut. It wasn’t that deep. 

“Nothin’.”

“Reno…”

“It’s a not a good idea,” he repeated, with a crooked smile. “You’re right.”

“Okay.” She nodded decisively, picking a dressing out of the kit and pressing it to his wounded hand. “Hold this.”

He did as she was told while she selected a bandage.

“I had a really great time,” she admitted, winding the cloth around his palm. He pulled his fingers away when the dressing was secure, fiddling with the discarded wrappers on the table instead.

Reno didn’t reply. She continued in silence, the atmosphere between them uncomfortable. She tucked in the loose end of the bandage, almost letting it unravel, her movements suddenly clumsy and awkward.

“There… all done,” she murmured.

Reno studied her efforts, flexing his fingers gingerly. “Thanks.”

She nodded.

“I should go,” he said.

He didn’t move though, staring up at her from his seat in the booth. Her fingers moved of their own accord, reaching out to smooth his collar. “Yeah…”

Reno stood up, and this time it felt as though he towered over her. His hand trailed along her arm to caress her cheek, calloused fingers grazing her jaw. Gentle pressure was all it took to tilt her mouth towards him.

Tifa watched him, eyes wide. He hesitated. “How bad an idea would it be, exactly.”

She exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure.”

He was so close now she could taste the whiskey on his breath. “We could-”

Tifa kissed him.

This was far more deliberate than their previous encounter, slower, her lips gentler and her fingers more tentative as they curled a little tighter into his shirt. He barely moved a muscle, save resting his injured hand against her hip, as though moving would break the spell and scare her away.

Warmth coursed through her. She kissed him a little harder, her mouth and her hands a little more demanding.

Reno’s fingers at her hip tightened, dragging her against him, his other hand winding through her hair. This time, when his mouth met hers, it was more urgent, all heat and teeth and tongue. Too weak to resist, she kissed him back just as fiercely, sliding her hands beneath his shirt and pressing them to his chest.

His heartbeat hammered beneath her palm. This didn’t feel like a mistake anymore, the way his hard lines fit against her too right to be wrong.

Her fingers brushed against a gnarled scar near his collarbone, and when she continued her exploration, nails scraping along the curve of his shoulder, he tensed against her. The back of her thighs bumped against the table, bringing her back to earth. His hands were wandering now, one working its way beneath her shirt while the other dipped lower, fingers digging into her hip as he ground himself against her.

“Reno…”

He was panting, cheek resting against hers. “Fuck… I know.”

She kissed the corner of his mouth and felt him smile.

“Hey,” he protested. “One kiss, remember?”

“I remember.”

“I should go.” He loosened his hold of her, taking a step backwards, and a part of her felt bereft, the air cool without his body pressed against her.

“You don’t have to-”

He reached for his coat. “If I don’t leave now, you’re not getting any sleep.”

Tifa felt her cheeks turn scarlet. “Oh...”

“I’m still not convinced by the way,” he said, jamming his hands into his pockets. “I don’t think this is a bad idea at all.”

“Hmm…”

“In fact…” He leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to her ear. “We should try it again sometime… maybe when there isn’t a gun-wielding maniac upstairs.”

His eyes were sparkling mischievously when he pulled away. Tifa swatted him playfully on the chest, unable to stop her smile from forming. “I think I’d like that.”

“I _know_ I would.” He rubbed his fingers through his hair, grinning. “Well… I guess this really is goodnight.”

She followed him to the door, sliding back the bolts. The night was frigid when she opened it, snow in the air. “Goodnight, Reno.”

He grimaced, pulling his coat a little tighter around him. “Fuck me, it’s cold.”

She watched him walk along the path, far steadier on his feet now. When he turned back, his eyes were wistful, a flirtatious smirk plastered on his face.

“Merry Christmas, by the way,” he called. “Hope you get what you wanted.”

Closing the door, Tifa leaned her forehead against the cool wood, wondering whether she made the right decision. She traced her fingertips across her lips, imagining his mouth pressed against them. She’d definitely gotten _something_ she wanted, she just hadn’t realised how much she wanted it.

Christmas morning lay ahead of her, bright and warm and shiny. There were presents to open, mouths to feed... Kisses to remember...

Smiling, she headed for the stairs. 

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact, Barret getting a prosthetic arm to replace his machine gun is the heartwarming canon I didn't know I needed.


End file.
